When We Were Young
by PetiteEnigma
Summary: Elphaba and Nessarose's childhood. Musicalverse with some bookverse elements.
1. Innocence starts to fade

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing.**

**A/N: Ah, inspiration is lovely. I'm still working on Believe Me, don't worry about that. I just like to have multiple stories because of my ADD. There aren't enough fanfics with little Elphaba and Nessarose. Please R&R!**

Sunlight filtered in between the wooden slats that covered the windows. The bright light hit the face of the child asleep on the floor underneath the window, causing her to open her eyes. With a dejected look that read 'its morning already?' she neatly arranged the thin blanket and what barely served as a pillow on the heavily patched pallet. Her nightgown was no more than an old flour sack—the upside-down logo of the company, although lightened after several washings, was still very apparent. Across the room, another girl slept peaceably with thick quilts piled around her.

"Nessa…Nessarose…Nessie…" the girl shook the other—her sister—gently to wake her.

"A few more clock ticks, Elphaba…" Nessarose cracked one eye open to be met by the familiar green face of her older sister.

"No, Nessa. Father told me last night to have you up when I get up every morning. We're going to get new clothes for you today." Elphaba pulled the covers off of the younger girl.

From the corner of the room the green girl pulled the heavy wheelchair next to the bed. A pile of freshly pressed clothes sat in the middle: a deep red dress and a crisp white pinafore.

"Fabala?"

"Yes Nessa." The green replied as she dressed her sister with great care.

"Why do you never get new clothes?"—she lifted her arms to be put into her chair—"But Father gets new clothes for me every month."

"I don't know, Nessa," said Elphaba as she slipped into her dark gray dress.

In truth, she wondered about this as well. Over the years the first born child of the Governor of Munchkinland had been all but hidden from the public eye. The sleeves came to just below her elbows and the dress barely reached her knees. Three years ago when she had first gotten it, there was room to breathe.

"Fabala, I need my shoes and leg braces," Nessarose dragged her older sister from the daydream.

"Oh, right, sorry…" Stockings, then shoes and finally leg braces covered the thin legs.

The two girls walked—well, Nessa wheeled—in silence down the hallway to the dining room for breakfast. A sharp pang of smoke hit their noses when they entered the room. Much to the older girl's dismay smoke and steam was pouring from the pan on the stove top. Frex stood raving that the Unnamed God would have His vengeance against the itinerant stove. Once the air in the room was clear once more, he took notice of his two daughters.

"Good morning, Father," smiled Nessarose sweetly.

Frex placed a kiss on the forehead of his favorite child, "How did you sleep?"

"Oh, I slept wonderfully last night, but El—"

He noticed the disheveled look of her hair, "Elphaba!" he barked.

"Yes, Father." The green girl stood in front of him at attention.

"Why didn't you brush your sister's hair?" He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and turned her to look at the other girl.

"I'm sorry, Father. I forgot to. I'll brush Nessa's hair after breakfast—"

"No! You will not have breakfast this morning because of your laziness! While we eat you will brush your sister's hair."

"Yes, Father…" Elphaba walked back to the bedroom she and Nessa shared.

The brush sat on the small, mirrored vanity. Despite her best intentions, the verdigrisian child caught her reflection. She turned her focus to her hair instead. To ensure that Frex wouldn't yell at her for taking too long she gave herself a cursory brushing as she walked back down the hallway. But still...

"Elphaba! Why did it take such a long for you to get your sister's hairbrush?!" the girls' father shouted.

Nessarose let her fork drop with a clattering sound against her plate, with a disapproving tone she said "Father. It isn't Fabala's fault. She didn't sleep well last night—she doesn't any night—and the room was so cold that I could hear her teeth chattering."

"Were you alright? Do you need more quilts and blankets?" Frex turned his focus back towards his favorite child.

"I'm fine at night, Father. But Fabala needs to not suffer so severely from the cold. If I give her one of my blankets and you find out, she is always the one at fault."

While all this was transpiring, Elphaba dutifully brushed her sister's auburn hair.

"Does any of this about that green thing concern me at all? I couldn't have fathered something so hideous that brings such horror and destruction." Only because it was the younger of the two girls did he keep his volume in check.

Nessarose rolled back from the table, and over Elphaba's foot in the process. She presented an ultimatum: "Father, when we go shopping you have to get Fabala new clothes, or I'll roll myself into Restwater."

**A/N: It's short. My first chapters tend to be like that. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. In a review of course. Or just a plain old review. So...please review!**


	2. Breaking the illusion

**Disclaimer in first chapter. **

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story on the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much, or maybe more.**

**Also, this is musicalverse as stated before, so Elphaba is not allergic to water. But there are several minor details from the book mixed in.**

The trek to Center Munch, the cultural and economic center of Munchkinland, took far longer than Frex had supposed it would. A tempest roared and several times threatened to pull the wheelchair from Elphaba's grasp. Through the entire journey Nessarose clung to the arms of her chair for dear life. When they arrived, her knuckles were as white as her pinafore. A red headband was the only thing that kept her hair presentable. The wind whipped Elphaba's long braid about in a serpentine fashion, temporarily blinding her when it was thrust across her eyes once. As the Governor and his family walked through the town square, nearly everyone they passed gawked openly at the sight of the green girl. Some women fainted, others held tightly to their children. Unknown to the younger of the two girls, her headband bounced off of her head and settled nicely into a divot in the dirt street. Once inside the clothing shop, Frex immediately began browsing for things his precious little girl would like.

"What do you think of this, my rose?" he held up a lavender dress with tiny sprigs of cream flowers in the pattern.

"It's lovely, Father, but you promised you would get new clothes for Fabala too." She reminded him.

"Go to the baskets in that corner over there and pick out a few things." He waved the green child away.

The baskets he had directed her towards were filled with all the clothes that had some sort of defect or other. Most of the items were torn. It wouldn't be hard for her to patch them. Despite his self-justified good intentions, he quite by accident sent her to a treasure trove.

"Yes, Father." Elphaba turned on the heel of her boot.

There was no evidence that the clothes at one point had been sorted in any way whatsoever. Skirts and pants and miss-matched socks were dispersed between dresses, hats, and coats. She dug around for the darkest, blandest items she could find. Her decisions were practical and none of what she chose was attractive or even nice looking. Then again, she had no innate fashion sense that told her what looked good or not. Unsure of what to do with the small folded pile of clothes, the green picked it up and went back to where her sister and father were. Nessa looked different—there was a loud whooping holler outside the store—where was her headband? That was it! Nessa's headband must have fallen off outside.

"Elphaba, where do you think you're going?!" Frex called to her small retreating back, knocking the pile of clothes next to him over.

"To get Nessa's headband," she threw the reply over her shoulder.

A group of boys were playing with the headband, tossing it back and forth amongst themselves. They laughed raucously. The sound made her cringe. There was an opening. She ran into the middle of them in hopes of intercepting the ribbon-covered thin metal object. The dirt street was moist from recent rain, and several large, deep puddles had formed.

"Hey! Let's play frog in the middle!" The boy in front of her yelled to the one holding the headband.

It sailed over her head repeatedly. Each time it whizzed past her she became more infuriated.

"Quit it! Give it back!" she shouted while still trying to catch the headband.

"Why should we? We found it. Finders keepers; losers weepers." Another boy taunted her with the ridiculous childhood rhyme.

"Give it to me or I'll--" The green girl was face down in a puddle before she knew what had happened.

"You'll what? Stay in your pond frog girl, and don't come out again!" The boy who had suggested they play 'frog in the middle' kicked mud in her face as she lifted herself up.

She rose. Mud clung to her dress and hair. She was soaking wet. Her expression clearly stated: 'if you know what's good for you, you'll high tail it out of here'. But none of them took the warning. A surge coursed through her small being. It had never happened before and the feeling scared her, but she was far too enraged to worry about that at the time. Sparks leapt between her finger tips. The surge—was it magic?—overcame her. An invisible force shot from her hand as she stated:

"IT'S MY SISTER'S!"

The headband wrenched itself from the grasp of whatever boy had caught it last and settled itself on a small, green palm. They just stood there, too shocked by what had happened to move. She turned and fled into the shop with her prize held tightly. Frex was appalled by her soaked and mud be-splattered appearance. The packages in Nessarose's lap told that he had already made his purchase. Solemnly the green girl fixed the headband on her little sister's head.

"You told me you were going to get your sister's headband. Not to play in the mud like a pig." He said sternly and roughly grabbed her thin shoulder.

Elphaba attempted an explanation, "I was getting Nessa's headband, Father. Some boys had it and they wouldn't give it back. I tried for what seems like an eternity to get it. But they shoved me into a pud--"

"Enough of your excuses!" He slapped her.

Nessarose felt helpless as she sat and watched. The relationship between her sister and father had always been strained. Never had it come to blows though. Why was her sister treated so differently from her? She was deformed from birth too. What made them so opposite in the eyes of their father? Did it have something to do with their mother having died giving birth to her? Was it because Elphaba had such a strange skin color? One day, she resolved, one day she would find out why he loved one of them and deplored the other.

"Father, please! Fabala got my headband back and it doesn't matter that she took so long!" Her voice was strained, her tone pleading.

The owner of the store came over, "Get out now. I don't need this in my business and you're scaring away my customers."

He all but slammed the door on their heels—and, well, wheels. The winds had died down, making their journey back home an uneventful one. As the sun dried the green girl's dress, most of the mud fell off as she pushed the wheelchair along the path. Her hair that had worked its way out of the braid hung limp and stringy around her face. Once inside the gates of the Governor's Mansion, Frex instructed Elphaba to go around to the kitchen door and directly to the bathroom to wash up. Nessa pressed the package that contained the green's clothes into her hands.

The green shut and locked the door to the small room. Nonchalantly she removed her clothes and kicked them into the far corner. The water from the shower was cold at first. After a short period it began to warm up. It beat down on her head, driving the mud and sticks and leaves into the darkening water around her verdigris feet. She scrubbed herself free of all signs of the puddle. There was a hatred she held of water. She hated the way it clung to her body and slowly dripped down. She hated the fact that after taking a warm shower the house felt so cold. She hated how vulnerable water made her feel. Dry but shivering, she pulled one of her new dresses from the brown paper parcel. It was an extremely dark shade of blue that unless the light hit it correctly the material would appear black. With long fingers she did up the row of small buttons in the back. Something else caught her eye. She pulled out a scarf that was clearly black, but shone purple, blue, green, and red when the light hit it. That first scarf from her sister was where her love for them stemmed from. She tied it around her head and picked up the pile of old and new clothes. Looking at the gray dress she was struck with an idea. In their room she put her clothes, as well as what Nessarose had gotten, away in their respective places. The hunger pangs were becoming sharper now. She had to eat something. Father had only said she couldn't have breakfast.

"I'm all cleaned up, Father." She clasped her hands in front of herself.

"Good…good…Go play with your sister in the garden." He was at his desk, reading important letters regarding information about Oz and Munchkinland.

"May I have something to eat? I'll bring something out for Nessa too." She asked. This was the only time she would risk asking him anything.

"Fine. No candy." He didn't look up even once from his work.

"Thank you, Father," she called over her shoulder as she clomped to the kitchen and then out the garden.

The last remains of a loaf of bread, a smidgen of butter, two apples, a hunk of cheese, and two tin plates were neatly wrapped and set in a picnic basket.

"What's in the basket, Fabala?" Nessa wheeled over to her sister, flower petals strewn across her lap.

"Lunch." She plopped down on the bench and unpacked the basket.

The younger girl wheeled herself so she sat facing Elphaba. Careful to not let any of the petals fall to the ground, she brushed them off her lap to the edges of her seat. The green prepared her sister's plate first, then her own. There was no real difference between the two, except Nessarose didn't like the heel of the bread, so that went to the older girl.

"This is really good, Fabala," the younger smiled appreciatively.

"I'm glad you like it," she bit into her apple with a crunch.

"Why did Father hit you? And why does he always act like everything is your fault?" she asked, noticeably concerned for her sister's well-being.

"It _is_ my fault, Nessa. If it wasn't for me, Father wouldn't have made Mother chew those milk flowers all the time. He wanted to be sure you wouldn't come out green too. But you came too early. Your little legs were all tangled. And Mother…never woke up."

"So you mean to say that all because of you I can't use my legs. And you're the reason why I never knew Mother. I still love you, Fabala, but just to think—that I could have been normal if it wasn't for you won't change anything."

"I'm sorry, Nessa. I'll make it up to you by always taking care of you."

**A/N: Look into my crystal ball...you want to leave a review...you want to leave a review...you will click the green button and review this chapter...**


	3. Weight of the World

**A/N: Sorry my updates are so far apart. School is hectic and has thrown me into a bit of writer's block. Hopefully I'll be able to resist it long enough to flesh out a few more decent chapters.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story after the last chapter. **

The wind picked slightly up just then, sending Nessarose's petals floating across the garden. Elphaba watched them and wondered what it would be like to float away from all this too. Frex called them inside. His arms were behind his back. Whatever he held was causing him great distress. He sent Nessa to her room to play with her dolls, but kept the green to berate her for something.

"What is this?" he thrust a book with dark brown cover in her face.

"A book, Father," she answered simply.

"And why was this book hidden under your bed?"

"I like to read, Father."

"Is that what you've been doing instead of watching your sister? Reading books full of useless drivel?" he asked his tone accusatory.

"No, Father, of course not. I only read when we're together in our bedroom. Sometimes I read stories to Nessa if she asks." She explained.

"Fine. Go. I better not catch you reading in at any other time from when your sister is with you." He handed the book back.

"Yes, Father. I promise I won't."

"Elphaba."

"Yes, Father?"

"Nessarose and you will start school a week from today."

"Yes, Father."

In their room, the younger girl had dolls in various stages of undress strewn across her bed. Most of them were made of cloth, but there was one beautiful porcelain doll with curly golden blonde hair and blue glass eyes that looked almost real. Its name was Cerulean (Rulie for short). Her sister had told her it was silly to name something with a color, but she didn't care.

"Fabala, will you get the little trunk of Rulie's clothes?" Nessarose asked when the green girl came into the room.

Elphaba stood on the plain wooden stepstool and lifted down the doll's trunk from its place on the highest of the shelves on Nessa's side of the room. The room was not divided equally though. It was far from it. In reality, Elphaba only had claim to the spot under the window and the top drawer of the dresser. Everything else was Nessa's.

"Father told me we start school a week from today." She announced, handing over the box.

"But neither of us has had any formal schooling at all. Well, aside from you teaching yourself to read and then helping me learn." The younger pointed out.

"I think he finally realized keeping us hidden from the rest of Oz won't help anything. Besides, he hates me."

"Hate is a strong word…"

"It's true. You know that."

"Yes, I do know that, Fabala. I've always been perplexed by it though. Father will make us into something with the way he treats us in such converse ways." Nessa reasoned.

"I know no different. Everywhere we go people will view me how Father does. I'm just the green freak."

"I don't think of you as the green freak…You're my sister and I still love you."

Frex's harshly chorused 'Elphaba!' could be heard through the shut wooden door.

"Sorry, Nessa. I have to go." The verdigrisian hastily said before scrambling out of the room.

"Elphaba—there you are. Go run these errands and don't come back until you've finished every single last one of them." He shoved a paper with a list written in his neat, even script that covered the front side of the page into her hand along with a heavy purse.

"Yes, Father." She fastened her moth-eaten cloak under her sharp chin, picked up the large, shallow, oval market basket, and all but fled out the door.

As she walked along--and somewhat ignored the snide comments of those she passed—she reviewed the list. At least it wasn't long as usual. It read:

_1. Food_

_-1/2 bushel of apples_

_-6 ears corn_

_-3 boxes salt crackers_

_-olives_

_-ham_

_2. Pick up Nessarose's clothes from tailor_

_3. Get mail from post office_

_4. Register Nessarose and green for school_

_5. School supplies_

_-Notebooks_

_-Books_

_Reader_

_Arithmetic_

_History_

_-Pencils_

_-Quill pens_

_-Ink_

_-Bag for Nessarose_

The list was tasks her father should have done himself, but everything was pawned off onto her always. Only in the task 'Register Nessarose and green for school' was she mentioned. Even then, he listed her as simply 'green'.

"Name?" The woman at the counter in the school registrar office didn't look up.

"Elphaba Thropp. My little sister Nessarose Thropp needs to be registered as well." She said matter-of-factly.

"Why are your parents not here to fill out the form?" the tone was a droll, not much better than Frex's grating shouts.

"Our father is governor of Munchkinland. Our mother died giving birth to Nessarose." The verdigris pulled her hood off.

"Oh, yes, Thropp. I don't know why I didn't see it before—ack!" The woman nearly fell out of her chair at the sight of the unnaturally colored girl.

"What? Are my boot laces untied?" Elphaba asked dryly.

"So it's true! Old Frexspar the Godly had an offspring with a frog!" she was in tears from laughing at the child's appearance.

"My mother was not a frog! I've been like this my entire eight year life." The green girl stalked at a rapid pace from the office, the basket full of packages she had left outside forgotten.

The gray Munchkinland rain fell down with pounding furry. Lightning and thunder countered each other as she raced through the fierce storm. The pouring water distorted her view of the dirt—now mud—pathway. The ground suddenly fell away beneath her, encasing her leg up to the knee in sludge. An animal of some sort—a pig—ran past. In the distance was a man in a blood splattered apron wielding a butcher's knife and stamping the ground furiously.

"Help! Help! Help me!" it squealed when it saw Elphaba.

"You can talk?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm an Animal. Don't tell the butcher though," was the Pig's hastened reply.

"Do butchers kill Animals a lot?"

"Yes. They don't think there is a difference between us and animals--"

The man grabbed the Pig by a back leg, "Gotcha! You'll be a nice ham for someone." He noticed the abnormally colored child, "Don't talk to beasts, their stupid."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was off before she had pulled her leg from the muck. As best as she could she wiped off the mud and continued walking home. Mid-step panic interrupted her thoughts. If she came home with nothing—well, she wouldn't put it past her Father to kill her. Long limbs stretched as she sprinted back to the school registrar office. It would be easier to tell him they wouldn't allow her to register and that he had to go do it himself than explain why she didn't have any of what she was sent out to get. With the basket held in front of her and the cloak hiding her, she trudged home unsure whether the weight on her was greater than the one she carried.

**A/N: You are going to click the green button. Not 'you want to', or 'you might'. You will click the green button.**


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